


The Sea in Storm

by mimosa (Error305_Proxy)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error305_Proxy/pseuds/mimosa
Summary: "...Thus we appoint you, ser James of house Bond, our Master of Ships. Rise, good ser, and take your place on our council."Bond doesn't really understand why he's been given the position. He knows serving the king is dangerous, and that one misstep might cost him his life. Since his appointment it seems that all he does is worry.He worries about the pirates in the East, the wights and ghouls in the north. He worries about Skyfall making it through another winter with enough food for his people. He worries about Alec, his hotheaded captain with no aptitude for political maneuvering.Recently, he's found himself worrying about Q, the court mage he can't seem to get a read on.





	The Sea in Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit that I have very little ability to worldbuild. As such, this world is made from bits of pieces of various universes I've been drawn to. I'm borrowing heavily and liberally from the Song of Ice and Fire series and in the Elder Scrolls series.
> 
> Title is inspired by Rothfuss.

"...Thus we appoint you, ser James of house Bond, our Master of Ships. Rise, good ser, and take your place on our council." 

James Bond stood from where he was kneeling and looks up at the king sitting on the throne in front of him. He had not expected when he received the summons from the king just a fortnight ago. The letter said nothing of a commission, only that his presence was requested in the capital.

"As you wish, your grace." He replies dutifully. He takes a couple of steps and walks to join the group of three men and two women standing on either side of the throne. The king moves on to other matters and Bond soon loses track of the line list of petitions brought forth by the various lords and ladies.

"Congratulations are in order, ser James." Bill Tanner whispers. He's been on the council for a long time as the master of coin and has apparently managed the art of speaking while barely moving his lips. 

Bond, however, has not managed such a skill, so only nods slightly in acknowledgement.

"I understand that Lady Mansfield was quite insistent on your appointment." Tanner continues, "You understand, of course, that the king was not a position to deny her request."

Her last request. The word goes unsaid. It stings Bond nonetheless. He had been fostered under the Lady M when he was younger and grew up under her care. He's been fighting for her house since he's been knighted, and it still hurts to think of her passing.

"I believe the king is planning on holding closed council after the petitions." Tanner adds after it becomes apparent that Bond is not going to respond. "I hear good news are in store for you."

Bond nods again. He tries to pay attention to the petitions, but soon loses track of who is accusing whom of sabotage. He lets his thoughts wander, his sights drifting aimlessly through the crowd of nobility gathered in the Hall of Dawn. There are few familiar faces and even fewer friendly ones. He hopes whatever being the master of ships entails doesn't mean he have to start playing the game with these people. He's good commanding the navy, but has never managed the art of political maneuvering.

He comes out of his musings when he feels Tanner shift next to him. He turns and follows, they are apparently going into the closed council now.

The council is held, as it always is, in the Maiden's Room. A room tucked away in the back of the castle, well hidden from any prying eyes. Bond recalls accompanying lady M to the doors of the room previously, but he's never stepped into the room himself,

The first thing he thinks when he steps in is it's smaller than he thought it would be.

There is a great table in the middle of the room, carved out of a single piece of ash wood. The table is covered in a map of the kingdom embroidered on a large silk sheet, with little pieces carved out of ivory in the likeness of various castles and strongholds. 

The seats around the table are carved out of ash of the same color, placed on each is a cushion covered in silk. The others take their place. There are two vacant seats, Bond takes the one further from the king.

The king sweeps into the room and sits down with a sigh. "Make note lady Moneypenny, if I must entertain petitions in public, make them short and straightforward."

"As you wish, your grace." Eve Moneypenny nods. She's been appointed hand of the king after the passing the Lady Mansfield only months before. 

"Ser James. Welcome." The king nods to him. "I prefer to be frank with my council so I will be frank with you. You were not our first choice for master of ships, not or second nor third. But there were a number of ... unfortunately incidents with the others, and lady Mansfield petitioned passionately on your behalf.You are not a lord and we do not think it appropriate to have a knight sit on the council. You have a year to reshape my navy and deal with the pirate Silva in the eastern sea. If you succeed you will be award a lordship, a castle. If you are unable to live up to our expectations, you may return to being a knight, fighting in tourneys and such."

"As you wish, your grace." Bond replies. He glances at Tanner, wondering if this was the good news that the man had been referring to before

"You may return to Skyfall and get your household in order. I know leadership is often required during harvests." The king intones, "Return to us before the first snowfall and move your residence to the capital. I expect to hear news of the navy's victory against Silva by before the next winter."

"Your grace." Bond starts, he chooses his words carefully. "If I may. I might be better able to guide the navy from the lines rather than from the capital."

"Be that as it may." The king gives him Bond a look that seemed to discourage any further interventions, "We feel better having you near in the capital where we can better understand your decision-making process."

"Of course, your grace." Bond acquiesces. He wonders at the moment, wonders what he's done to lose the king's trust before he even starts. 

"Before we move on to other matters, I have a request for you, ser James." The king leans back into his chair, slightly more relaxed. 

"I live to serve, your grace." Bond replies dutifully. It's a response that doesn't require much thought in his mind.

"My mage has expressed an interest in seeing the moorlands. Would you allow him to accompany you when you make for Skyfall and return him safely to us in the winter?"  
Bond blinks, thrown off-guard once again. "Of course, your grace." He says hastily when he realizes he has paused for too long. 

A mage in Skyfall. He wonders when the last time was that a mage had been anywhere near Skyfall. It's unwelcoming land for mages, not much magic to draw on, too far away from the capital where the strongest pools of mana seem to reside. Has a mage really expressed an interest to go? Or has the king placed a set of eyes and ears in his house even for the short duration that he's away from the capital?

Moneypenny steers the council to begin discussing the reports coming from the north of the increasing number of wights and ghouls. Farmers have been losing livestock. Some towns now switching to burning their dead entirely. 

Nobody asks for his opinion on the matter. Skyfall has seen its fair share of wights, but they have no better understanding of the creatures than others. Only that they seem to have only a bare amount of intelligence and are driven by the desire to consume living beings, animal or human. They seem to shy away from fire, but nothing else, not solid iron nor salt, seem to repel them. But of course, this is nothing the king does not already know. So Bond holds his tongue.

The others on the council Bond does not know. There’s a master of spies, a short woman who does not say a word during the entire process. Two masters of arms splitting the northern army and the southern army, both large men who look like they might have once been able fighters but who, in Bond’s opinion, look like they might have been spending too much time in the capital and away from the front lines in the recent years. Boths how the telltale signs of a warrior who have not picked up a weapon in some time. 

The discussion goes nowhere. None of the people at the table have seen a wight or a ghoul, they can’t agree on how much the issue should be prioritized or how it should be addressed. Bond wonders not for the first time during the meeting where the king’s mage is . He should be the one offering counsel on the topic.

“Enough.” The king declares when one of the masters of arms brings up the same argument for the third time. “I shall consult with Q, let us not speak of the issue any longer”

Bond has a vague recollection of Q, an affable old man who had a cheerful twinkle in his eyes and always a kind word for anybody who approached. The man was also more interested in the ambient magic, the type that controls weather or crops or livestock than anything that was related to do with military. It had seemed, in Bond’s brief encounter of Q previously, that he had little interest in offensive or defensive arts at all.

He wonders how much counsel Q will be able to give to the king on the issue. 

The council is dismissed shortly after. Bond exits the room, his shoulders relaxing the further he gets away from the room. He has much to do if he’s to leave for Skyfall in the morning and he’s promised Alec that he would look into the blacksmiths to see if they have a dagger for him.

“Do you have time to join me for dinner, my lord?” Lady Moneypenny’s voice rings out from just behind him. “Now that we’ll be working together, we should get to know each other better, should we not?”

“I’m not a lord, my lady.” Bond responds. Lady Moneypenny is one of the most beautiful women he’s laid eyes on. He forces himself to not think of Vesper and resists the urge to scowl. 

“Only a matter of time, I’m sure.” the lady all but purrs, “So. Dinner?”

“Perhaps upon my return, my lady” Bond defers, “I have much to do and likely extra preparations are necessary to ensure the comfort of the king’s mage.”

“Mhmmm, another time then.” Moneypenny leaves Bond with a look full of promises. Bond has seen the look before and knows enough now that those looks tend to lead to only empty promises.

He walks back to his room, one of the guest rooms at the very top of the Tower. He doesn’t enjoy the long climb up the stairs, but fortunately it means he’s unlikely to have unwanted visitors. 

 

Bond has only a few companions travelling with him. A small contingent of guards afforded to him by the late Lady M, a groom, and a stableboy to take care of the horses. They are packed and ready at the crack of dawn, mounted and eager to set out.

Except of course, they cannot, because the king’s mage is nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, I will leave without him if he does not show up soon.” Bond mutters. Alec, the captain of his guards, nods in agreement. They are stopped just outside of the gates of the capital, and the group is getting impatient.

“Good thing I’m here then. I’d hate to have missed you.” A hooded figure rides out the gates. He’s outfitted fully as a mage with a cape that looks like it’s made of liquid obsidian. The cape seems to catch the light and absorb it, a shade of deepest black that somehow looks darker than the darkest night in Bond’s memory, The hood on the cape casts a shade on the face of hte wearer, and whether by design or by magic, Bond can’t make out anything about the person on the horse other than that he’s a mage.

“You’re late.” Bond says. 

“I have arrived when I meant to arrive.” The mage rides past Bond without stopping, “Let us not dally any longer. Heed me, James Bond, I am a mage in the king’s court and will not be treated as anything less.”

“Of course, my lord.” Bond spits out the words like venom. 

Bond sets a languid pace, slower than he would like. But the last time he’s seen Q was nearly a decade ago and the man had a head of white hair and a grey beard, so Bond suspects the mage is not in a position to be riding hard. 

It comes as a surprise then when the mage’s voice is all but whispered into his ear. “Please do not slow down on my account, ser James. I am anxious to get to Skyfall and the current pace is not to my liking.”

Bond whips his head around expecting to see the other man close by, but instead finds that he’s been riding at the head of their little group and the mage is loitering somewhere at the back. 

“You look surprised. Didn’t they tell you I’m a mage?” The mage’s voice is clear as day, as if the man is speaking next to his ear. 

Bond narrows his eyes and looks around at his men. They have clearly not heard any of the exchange. He turns and spurs his horse on to a trot, faster than he can sustain for a day’s riding just out of spite. 

His men follow dutifully. He stops himself from turning to look if the mage is following them. 

They break for lunch after hours of silent riding. They’re still on the King’s Road but are getting to the deserted regions now where other travellers are less common. Bond directs his men to set up a small makeshift camp in a clearing behind the line of trees off the side of the road. They’re surrounded by forests on all sides and he can hear the sound of a brook babbling somewhere in the distance. 

He watches as the mage dismounts with the level of ease that he himself does not feel. The hood is still up and despite them standing in the opening near noon, there’s still a stubborn shadow cast over the mage’s face, dark enough that no features of the other man can be made out. 

Bond wonders if the secrecy is for him or his men. He doesn’t pretend to understand why it’s necessary when he knows most people in the capital must have seen the old man walking around at one point or another. 

“No fires, good ser.” The mage walks up to him. He lets go of the reigns of his horse and Bond watches, aghast, as the horse seems to wander off on its own. Q doesn’t say anything about it, so Bond pretends he’s not concerned. 

“We need fire to heat up the food.” Alec chimes in. Bond’s loyal captain is standing not far off, shooting suspicious glances at the mage. 

“No fires.”The mage repeats, “There are worse things in the forest than cold food. If it came down to it I’m sure we’d be able to scare them off, with swords if not with my presence alone. But nonetheless, far as I am from a source of mana at this point, I should like to not have to deal with them.”

“We travelled this way before and had a fire.” Alec mutters stubbornly, “And we didn’t see anything dangerous.”

“No, but then again you didn’t have a mage in your group drawing their attention, did you?” the mage sounds cross now, “I say again, no fires, it will only draw more attention to us.”

“There’s bread and cheese, salted pork and wine. None of those require heating.” Bond steps in just as he sees Alec getting ready to argue. “We can get by for lunch and figure out something for dinner.”

Alec gives the mage a thunderous look before stomping off to order the men not to start any fires. Q nods to Bond in acknowledgement. 

“We’ll need a fire at night.” Bond says. He doesn’t want to leave the issue for too long, “The report of wights -”

“Yes of course.” The mage replies. “Though at the pace you’ve set for us I daresay we’ll be approaching Goldford. There’s a sufficient pool there that I can draw on to ensure we’re not troubled by -”

The mage stops mid-sentence, freezing briefly then snapping his head in the direction Alec had gone. “I said no fire.” He hisses, “Do your men not know how to follow orders?”

He’s gone before Bond can reply, there one second and gone the next. Nearly instantaneously, Bond hears shouts of alarm coming from the direction he was looking to.

He swears and breaks off into a run. He knows Alec has a short temper, a trait he himself is known to share at times. But Alec’s impulse control is much worse, and the king is not going to take kindly to his mage getting killed. 

His men are blocked from his sight by the thick foliage of the trees so he doesn’t understand what’s happening until he’s close enough to feel the heat of the fire. 

Two of his men are lying limp on the ground, two are brandishing their swords and looking more scared than Bond has ever seen him. Alec is down near the fire, his chest slashed open and bleeding. He’s conscious, so Bond chooses to leave the worrying for later. 

Q is standing between his men and what looks like an old crone. But her arms are covered in black feathers and she looks more bird-like than any human should have the right to. His hood has come off now, revealing only a head of black curls. Bond takes one second to puzzle at the change in hair colour before reminding himself that he needs to focus.

“Leave. This will not end well for you.” Q says. He raises his right hand as he speaks and it gets engulfed in flames. A human shaped being of flame suddenly appears next to him, floating in the air.

Whatever the other thing is, it doesn’t back down. It tilts its head and takes a tentative step forward, a noise of pure hatred pouring out of its mouth.

The being next to Q shoots two fireballs at the thing in quick succession. They are batted away like flies. 

Bond takes a tighter hold of his sword and steps forward. Q, without looking back, commands, “Stop.”

He’s not sure if Q is talking to him or the creature. But they both stop nonetheless.

Q does something with his hands and it suddenly looks like the ground underneath him explodes. A wall of flames sprouts from the ground in a half moon shape in front of Q, and the creature screeches so terribly that Bond feels the vibrations all the way through in his bones. 

When the flames die down, nothing remains but some ash and a couple of stray black feathers. The being of flame floats to where the creature was and explodes in a shower of sparks. Q turns around and surveys the camp, eyes narrowed.

It’s the first time Bond sees his face properly and he can’t tear his eyes away. The mage is much much younger than Bond remembers, looking like a man in his late twenties. His eyes the shade of emeralds, still sparkling with the force of magic he had been using. His skin is pale, as is with all mages, but not in a way that speaks of ill health. 

His hair rustles in the wind, black curls framing a delicate face. 

He looks angry. And tired.

“My lord - “ Bond steps forward, but gets interrupted by a groan from Alec.

Q’s head snaps to Alec as well, grimacing as he does so. Bond is ready to step in and intervene on Alec’s behalf when he sees Q shake his head and walk over, a resigned look on his face.

“More trouble than you’re worth.” He hears Q mutter, but nonetheless he sees Q’s hand cast in the telltale light that indicates the mage is preparing a healing spell. Bond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

His men gather and watch in amazement as the claw marks on Alec’s hand knit themselves back together under Q’s hand. After a minute there seems to be no lingering signs of any wound having been there at all. 

Alec tries to sit up and promptly passes out.

Nothing could be done for the other two men, so James gives them last rites and they burn the bodies on the side of the road. Q doesn’t object to the funeral pyre, so Bond assumes whatever danger they were in has passed. Skyfall sees its share of wights, they’ve not been burying bodies for a long time now.

 

“I remember you being older.” Bond says after it’s all done. The remaining two men are working to heat up the food now that they can have a proper fire. Though Bond can’t say he’s still got much of an appetite. Nevertheless, he knows they all must eat. Alec is still passed out so they can’t set off. Q looks drained as he sits there. He keeps looking towards the road wistfully, Bond knows he’s anxious to get to a place closer to a mana pool. 

“You remember the previous court mage.” Q replies. “He passed some years ago.”

“I -” Bond starts but pauses, it hadn’t occurred to him that this Q might be different than the Q he saw many years ago. He had assumed it was just magic. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Q turns to give him a puzzling look, “Because you couldn’t tell from my shadows that I’m not a man you saw years ago?”

“Because of your loss.” Bond says.

Q’s lips press into a thin line and he refuses to look at Bond, “Don’t be. I’m not.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Bond says after a beat, “I don't know how you survive at court.”

“Watch your words, ser.” Q leans forward and pulls up his hood once again. His face vanishes into the shadows, and Bond realizes just how much it prevents him from reading the other man. “You’re boarding on insolence.”

“My apologies, my lord.” Bond murmurs. He looks down and sees Q’s hand tremble slightly before they are suddenly balled tightly into fists. “My thanks to you, for saving my captain.”

Q turns, a clear dismissal. Bond stays by his side nonetheless.


End file.
